atlanta // a long way

[GEOFFREY DANIEL WHITAKER]

“We want them back.”

The older man spoke in the plural even though his wife hadn't said a word during the entire exchange, other than “Sugar?” and “Cream?” when she served him coffee. She was a subdued but lovely lady, with her neatly pinned blonde hair. Her blue eyes were glassy, though, as though she was in a strange dream – one that if broken would destroy her. Frankly, Geoff was far more interested in her story, but the loud and authoritative husband kept demanding his attention.

Geoff looked from one picture to another. Two beautiful blonde young women were featured in high-school-portrait style pictures, each roughly 2 by 3 inches. Geoff resisted the urge to yawn – he was still struggling with jet lag. This time yesterday, he was still in San Francisco, thinking all he had to look forward this weekend with a date with a potential new girlfriend and lots of paperwork regarding his latest cases. But that was after he got a call and numerous emails from a very pushy Kansas pastor. Geoff politely explained that there were qualified private investigators in the South – several of whom he would recommend personally. But Mr. Tisza wouldn't hear of it. “I hear you're the best and I need the best. I'll pay whatever it takes.” Geoff caved in – the sense of urgency piqued his interest.

“How old are these pictures?” Geoff asked, aligning them together and clipping them inside his notepad. He found that if he had paper and a pen in hand, people considered him more professional. Mr. and Mrs. Tisza couldn't see, but all he wrote so far were the names “Atlanta Mea” and “April Evangeline” in pretty cursive. They were beautiful names – names he might consider for his own kids one day. He idly wondered if new potential girlfriend wanted kids or would even make a good mother.

“The one of April is this year, but Atlanta's been mising for three years now.” Surprisingly it was Mrs. Tisza who spoke, in a quavering voice. Geoff met her eyes intently, trying to make that connection, hoping to transmit his confidence and comfort. Mr. Tisza interrupted the moment. “We'll do whatever it takes.” he said. He sounded like he was talking down to Geoff – as though Geoff was some kid. Maybe Mr. Tisza talked like that to everyone. Maybe he couldn't help being an inherent asshole. Shut up old man. Geoff thought to himself.

“Was there any particular event related to their disappearance? Anything unusual? Or change in behavior?” Geoff asked, his list of professional questions long ago memorized. He shifted in his seat. Like everything in this house, it looked far more comfortable than it actually was. In the corner of his vision, he saw two other blonde heads looking in his direction. They were peaking over the corner of the stairs, the two youngest Tisza children. Geoff sent them his most hopeful and comforting smile.

Mr. Tisza looked his wife, and momentarily hesistated. “Well...” he started. The rest a a barrage of details and confused accounts that may've seemed strange to any normal person. As Mr. Tisza spoke, Geoff's mind dove straight into his experiences. Geoff saw April running at seemingly supersonic speeds. Atlanta's singing sending him into a near hypnotic state. Golden eyes. Nervous behavior …

“I see.” Geoff said after a while, pretending to jot down more notes, when in actuality, he already knew everything he needed to know. Atlanta's singing echoed in his head, like a distant haunting memory. “I'll start the search right away, and keep in touch regarding any developments.” Geoff stood up, making very clear he was about to go and held out his hand to shake.

Mr. and Mrs. Tisza stood as well, although they seemed very surprised. “That's it?” Mr. Tisza said, though taking Geoff's hand for a shake. “Do you know where they'd go?”

There's only one place people like me are truly at home.

“They're have been similar cases. I may know some leads.” Geoff answered vaguely, but it was Mrs. Tizsa's hand he held longer and her eyes his looked into.

When he walked out the front door, he took only a couple of steps before he felt like he was being watching. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the younger Tisza kids peaking from the corner of the house. Geoff checked to make sure their parents weren't watching out the window, and then walked over. He crouched slightly, making himself more their level. He took out a business card from his pocket. “If you ever need anything.” he told them. They took it cautiously, with nervous but hopeful wide eyes …

*******

The apothecary looked the same as ever. It threw him back into his childhood – so many times he followed his mom into the shop. His mom would have coffee and gossip with Aunt Gilly, and he usually played with little Gilly. little Key tended to played by herself in the corner and look over at them jealously. Geoff walked in, the flood of familiar smells washed over him. It was all so the same … but the person behind the counter looking at him in surprise wasn't his aunt – it wasn't even Gilly who was meant to take over the shop – it was little Key. After her initial shock, she ran into his arms, and as Geoff held her for a very long time, he kept thinking how strange and unfair life was.

“How are you holding up?” he asked, both him and Key already sitting on the front steps of the shop. Leaves were tumbling in the wind, and the sounds of the river lapping against the pebbled shore could be heard from nearby.

“You know ...” Key said slowly, quietly, glancing at her shoes and then out in the distance. “Holding.” The one word alone was able to conjure images of despair in Geoff. She looked over at him. “You?”

No one expected her to be the one to step up. She was always special, but as the youngest, she wasn't really meant to do or uphold anything. “Alright.” Geoff replied, having no right to complain. “On a project. Might stay a while. Hard to say.” He hung out with Gilly so much in their youth because she was closer in age, and also because she was so talkative. He and Key were too much alike – speaking in fragmented sentences.

Key nodded, and then surprised him by asking, “Want a job?” Geoff looked curiously over at her. She hesitated and shuffled her feet. “It's hard keeping up with this place all by myself.” she admitted. Most people admitted more than they normally did around Geoff. He had that effect on people. He said yes.

They stared at the landscape for some time, both lost in thought. Finally Geoff asked, “Do you an Atlanta Tisza?” Key first looked confused, possibly because she didn't know Atlanta's last name. Then Key looked suspicious, glancing over at Geoff with a raised eyebrow. Then she smiled ruefully. “She's only twenty.” she said with a dry laugh. Geoff surprised himself by blushing and laughing along, even though that's totally not what he meant. “Yeah, she sings at the bar.”

“Well, you have no right talking about age differences.” he countered with a smile. Key smiled back and nudged him with her knee.

They talked some more.

*******

So Geoff made it to the bar he vaguely remembered. He didn't come here often enough when he was legal, but he more or less knew everyone there. He ordered a beer and sat by himself at a table towards the back, keeping an eye on his surroundings. Sometimes working as a private investigator made him feel as though he was watching life instead of really participating in it. Only a few observations really set the seen. The lights were dimmed; men and women leaned subtly towards the stage; music started.

Geoff's eyes bore into the siren on the stage.

[ATLANTA MAE TISZA]

OUTFIT

Atlanta sat in her make shift dressing room, feet up on the vanity table, her eyes glossy as she swirled her glass of gin absentmindedly. Since April had come back, it brought back a lot of memories of home for Atlanta. In fact, tonight felt like that fateful night three years ago. The faint gnawing in her gut, the lights, the sound of the crowd. Though now she was invigorated by it, when then she'd been nervous-- rightfully so as it turned out. The look on her father's face, the way the crowd leaned in to her, to their neighbors, everyone getting hot. And she loved it. That was power, sexuality and once it was out, she couldn't get it back. Her father's lingering eyes lingered longer and he enjoyed her exorcism too much...

Atlanta stood, and set her glass down. She checked her makeup and smirked. If only that hypocrite she called father could see her now. Granted, she wasn't showing as much cleavage as normal, but she made up for it in leg. Even so though, openly bisexual, making money for singing, wearing heels and make up, celebrating Halloween, no longer a virgin.... Hell, April's new fondness for short shorts alone would make him pitch a fit. As dubious as Atlanta was about April's arrival, she was glad to have family again.

She went backstage before stepping into her single faint spot light, hands wrapped around the microphone stand. She could already feel the anticipation in the air.

And then she opened her mouth.

Tonight she was going for a sultry version of a popular song, which wasn't all that difficult to do really. Of course, Atlanta could get people hot over the wheels on the bus, but that was hardly the point. Her eyes moved around the room as she swayed her hips.

"And I never saw you coming, And I’ll never be the same"

Atlanta let herself get taken into the words, turning the upbeat country song into a slow jazz number, letting her had roll to let her golden waves spill over her shoulders, her knees bent slightly to allow her to sway with ease.

"So you were never a saint. And I've loved in shades of wrong."

But the moment ended, and she left the stage. The lust struck masses began to move, to kiss their dates, or hold strangers hands, a couple rushed off giggling toward a darker corner of the bar where the phone booth used to be. Atlanta smiled and went to the bar. Fred handed her her usual drink and left her too it. She liked to be around after the show, feed off the aftermath, and maybe get to have a little fun herself.